When We Two Parted
by r4ven3
Summary: A post-Cotterdam story in 8 chapters. Set from late in S.9 to early in S.10, Ruth has been away for over 4 years, when Malcolm contacts Harry. An AU story, with a different outcome (from canon) for Harry & Ruth. M-rated from Chapter 4 onwards.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I know I wasn't going to visit post-Cotterdam H & R again, but I must be obsessed with it, I guess. This is a very AU look at yet another series of possibilities. Kudos characters not mine.**_

* * *

_When we two parted_  
_In silence and tears,_  
_Half broken-hearted_  
_To sever for years,_

_~ Lord George Byron (published in 1808) ~_

* * *

Harry lifted his head and looked over to check that his bed companion was asleep. She was, so that meant it was time for him to leave. He had made it a rule that he would not spend the night with her, and nor would he ever take her back to his house, and to his own bed. He had concocted for himself a set of rules, and as ridiculous as these rules were, they made sense to him, and they made him feel slightly better about his involvement with her. There was only one woman on the planet who was welcome in his home, and in his own bed, only one woman with whom he would be prepared to sleep overnight, and although they had never shared a bed, he was hoping that one day a miracle would occur which might change that …... some time soon before they were both too old to take advantage of it.

He slid silently out of bed, and looked back at Carol's sleeping form in the bed – her bed, in her flat, the flat she kept secret from everyone but him. She was a good companion – funny, rather clever, accommodating (that is, she didn't ask awkward questions), available, and she was skilled enough in bed to have maintained his interest. That was all he'd been looking for when he'd first approached her in a bar late one Friday night seventeen months earlier.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he'd said, expecting her to tell him to get lost.

"I thought you'd never ask," she'd replied, rolling her eyes, and indicating the man on the other side of her who had been boring her with the intricacies of his fertiliser business.

They had had sex that first night. Harry had told Carol up front that he was in love with a woman who was living in another country, and he'd not known when or if he'd ever see her again. She had seemed comfortable with that, and had not even commented when he had left soon after they had had sex. The sex had been good – fiery and inventive, but it had not the passion and intimacy of a coupling between people who care for one another. Harry could never love Carol. He was not available to love another, which is why he needed someone like her. He knew he was using her, but so was she using him. He used her body to let go and to offload his tension, and she seemed happy for him to do that.

"I'm married," Carol had told him after they'd been together five or six times. They only saw one another once or twice a month, as mostly Carol was in her home in Germany. "My husband is German," she continued. "He has his liaisons, and I have mine. It works well for us."

"Does he know about me?" Harry had asked, not knowing why he even needed to know. He had known Carol was married; he'd discovered that when she'd been vetted. It made no difference to him.

"Not specifically, although I've told him I see someone in London, and another man in Paris."

"There are _two_ of us?"

"Of course, Harry," she'd said. "You don't imagine that you're enough for me, do you?"

Harry had felt somewhat miffed, but he also knew he was becoming rather mechanical in his couplings with her. He knew there'd come a day when he'd be bored by her, and she by him. For the time being, she served a purpose.

He wasn't sure what it was she did for a living, and why it was she travelled regularly to London and Paris. She'd told him her name was Carol Klein, and he'd told her his name was Harry Standing. The name had popped out of his mouth before he'd given it any thought. So Harry Standing he was. Other than the occasional dinner, they didn't date. Mostly they met at Carol's flat, had a drink or two, and then retired to the bedroom for sex. Harry stayed awake afterwards, waiting for her to fall asleep, and then he'd leave, and she never knew to where. For all she knew, he could have himself been married.

Harry considered himself married, which was strange when the woman he had loved for more than four years was someone with whom he'd shared a chaste relationship. He could not look at another woman without comparing them to her. They had kissed on only two occasions. Their last kiss had been a kiss of goodbye on the morning she'd left London to go into exile. The air had been cold by the Thames that morning, and their lips were stiff and almost frozen as they'd kissed their last goodbye, a bittersweet parting from which Harry had not yet fully recovered.

Their first kiss had been after the one and only time they'd gone out to dinner together. He had walked her to the door, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. They had looked at one another then, and she had opened her front door, and taken him by the hand, drawing him into the front hallway, quickly closing the door behind them. His heart had begun beating rapidly in his chest, as she'd leaned against him, and placed her lips on his. For a brief moment in time, they had abandoned themselves to a kiss which opened the door just a little to what was possible for them. There had been a meeting of tongues, her hands had travelled warmly over his chest and then around his neck and to his shoulders. Her hands had set of sparks of electricity across his skin, and then to every part of his body, as she ran her fingers over his clothing. He had pushed his hips against her, letting her know that he was aroused by her. She had pushed her hips back towards him, and the grazing of their bodies against each other had brought him a level of illicit pleasure he had not experienced since he'd been in his teens, and had first touched a girl's breasts through her light summer dress. He had been the one to pull away first. After all, this had been their first date, and he was her boss, and she was so much younger than he. They should not have been going out to dinner together; they should not have been doing this in her front hallway; he should not have been having private thoughts about her of the kind he was having when he was lying alone in his bed.

"I'd like to do this again," he'd said, his mouth still close to her own. "Dinner. You and me. No-one else."

"I'll let you know," she'd answered, smiling, before she kissed him again, softly, briefly and sweetly.

The taste of her lips and her skin was still in his mouth as he'd opened his car door, and settled himself into the drivers seat. Her perfume still inhabited his nostrils, and he hoped in that moment that it always would …... for the rest of his life. He knew it was already too late for him. He could not rewind the clock. He was already in love with her …... hopelessly, romantically, head-over-heels.

And then she had turned down his offer of a second date, citing that their co-workers were laughing at them.

He'd been shattered, bewildered, and confused …... but he'd still held out hope that he could change her mind.

And then the very worst thing had happened, and she had had to leave the country …... perhaps forever.

That had broken him, and over four years later, he was still broken.

Try as he might, Harry could not shake the memory, the promise of that first kiss they'd shared inside her front door. He'd seen it as a beginning, but instead, it had been a tantalising taste of what would never be.

It was in that frame of mind that two and a half years after Ruth had left London, Harry had gone to the bar in search of solace, and he had met Carol Klein.

* * *

The next morning – Saturday – Harry's phone had rung just as he was sitting down to a breakfast of coffee and toast.

"Harry? It's Malcolm."

"Malcolm. It's been a long time."

"Almost a year by my reckoning. I need to see you, Harry. Can you come by my place today? I have some important information for you."

Ruth? Perhaps he knows Ruth's whereabouts. For Harry, that is at the top of his list of Important Information, barring the whereabouts of Lucas North, who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

"I'm required at work until early afternoon, but I should be able to make your place by two, three at the latest."

"Make sure you bring your phone, Harry."

"Of course. I always have it on me."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

Malcolm showed Harry into his den – which was his office, but he liked to call it his den. It was a room off-limits to his mother, who still lived with him, but spent most weekends in respite care. It would only be a matter of time before his mother would require full time care, and for that, she'd have to go into a nursing home, something Malcolm was dreading facing.

"I have a number of things to show you, Harry," Malcolm began, "but firstly, you need to give me your SIM from your phone, and I'll have it destroyed, and the number taken off the database. Here is your new SIM." Malcolm handed him a plain card with the SIM stuck to it. A mobile number was written on the card in Malcolm's hand. "This number will not be traced to you, and you should be prudent about who it is you give it to. Of course, everyone at work will need it, as will the HS, the DG, and anyone who requires regular contact with you. I have already put the number in my contacts on my own phone."

Harry busied himself with removing his phone's SIM, and replacing it with the new one. "I imagine you have your reasons," he mumbled.

"I do. The first one is that this woman has access to it, and I'm not sure whether that's a good idea. Your whereabouts can be traced through that SIM. Until I know more about her …... activities …. it's safer you have a new phone number …... one which can't be traced to you."

Malcolm placed on the table in front of Harry a grainy photograph of a blonde-haired, late 40's woman, dressed smartly in a tailored suit. Harry leaned over and was visibly startled when he recognised Carol Klein.

"How do you -"

"I'm currently doing some private work for North Yorkshire Aeronautics. They have business interests in Germany and Sweden, and they asked me to put a trace on a German engineer by the name of Gunther Hoff. This is his wife – Stephanie Hoff. I believe you know her as -"

"Carol Klein. I had Carol Klein vetted, and she came up clean."

"That is because Carol Klein _is_ clean. She owns the flat which Stephanie Hoff uses for her …... assignations. Carol Klein is a travel agent who spends much of her time out of the country. She and Stephanie Hoff met in Germany, where both their husbands work. So ….. your vetting of Carol Klein would have come up with information which also fits Mrs Hoff. "

Malcolm put another several photographs in front of Harry. They were CCTV photos from a camera across the road from the flat where he met Carol/Stephanie. He described the photos as he placed them on the desk.

"This is Stephanie Hoff with Martin Degaris, head of security at North Yorkshire Aeronautics. This next one you can see is you entering the flat. The date and time stamp is clear on all these. This is Carol Klein, returning from an overseas trip, and this last one is Stephanie Hoff with an unknown male companion. You have been one of three men she's been seeing over the past year. Until I know for certain what she's up to, and whether her – er – seeing you is a coincidence or a cunning plan, it is prudent you cut all ties with her ….. as of now."

"Why didn't you mention this to me before, Malcolm?"

"I had to get a wider picture of this first. Does she know your real name?"

"She knows me as Harry Standing. I never mention my job, although I've intimated I'm in business, and that I sometimes travel."

"Are you fond of her?"

"Fond? What does that mean?"

"Are you in love with her?"

"Of course not. It's just sex. Nothing more."

"Would it upset you if you never saw her again?"

"No. All we were to one another was just a convenient shag. I told her on the first night I met her that I was in love with someone else."

"And are you?"

"Yes. You know I am."

"It's easy to remain true to someone when you haven't seen them in a long time."

"No, it's not, Malcolm. It's hell. I was seeing her …..." Harry pointed to the photograph of the woman he'd known as Carol. "... to try to take my mind off Ruth."

"And did it work?"

Harry shook his head, his expression sad and defeated. "Who is this Hoff woman?"

"I'm not yet sure, but everything points to her being a legitimate courier for her husband. She delivers his documents from Germany to France, and to Sweden, and to the UK, and she also meets with his clients. She is his public face. Martin Degaris is not a client, so I'm assuming her contact with him is …... for pleasure. Gunther Hoff is a freelance aeronautical engineer. Only the very best in the field get to go freelance. North Yorkshire have been interested in what he's been selling. They suspect that he's selling something else entirely in the Middle East, which is where my attention will be directed from now on. I suspect the aeronautical connections are simply a cover. If he's selling anything other than aeronautical patents to the Middle East, North Yorkshire will be breaking their contract with him. When I saw your face turning up at the flat, I was hoping you were not involved."

"Only sexually, Malcolm. I won't be seeing her again. She's always contacted me by phone. I don't even have a mobile number for her. I didn't see the point."

Malcolm checked his watch, and noticing that it had just gone 3.30 pm, he suggested a drink.

"Are you going back into work today, Harry?"

"No. Alec is handling the Grid. Our main concern is Lucas North, and when we find him, he'll need to be brought in. Other than that, things are quiet."

Harry sat back in his chair, and shuffled through the CCTV photographs in front of him. The most noticeable thing about them was the strong resemblance between Stephanie Hoff and Carol Klein. Other than perhaps a difference in age of around 5 years, with the real Carol Klein being perhaps in her mid-forties, the same description fitted both women – same height, hair colour, eye colour, and both had a mole on their right collar bone.

Malcolm brought in a bottle of single malt whiskey, and two glasses. He poured a generous measure for each of them. "And now for the real news," he said, sitting back in the chair opposite where Harry sat. "There are two main points of interest. The first is that Oliver Mace has been arrested. He's been extradited to The Hague. The crimes against his name are unclear at present, but I don't think it matters now whether he faces a jury over what he did to try to oust you from MI-5."

"It matters to me, Malcolm. Ruth had to leave because of it."

"What it means is that Ruth can now come home."

Harry swallowed his mouthful of whiskey, and almost choked on it. He coughed until he got his breath back. "What did you say?"

"Mace is in The Hague on charges of conspiracy against the European Union. Don't ask me what that means, as I haven't bothered to look into it, having been too busy with other things. He'll not see daylight for at least fifteen years. This means that Ruth is free to come home."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you to those who have read the first chapter of this fic, and especially to reviewers, who took the time out to leave their thoughts.**_

* * *

"Say that again, Malcolm."

"Ruth can now come home."

"What if she doesn't want to come home?"

"I can assure you that she does."

"You're in touch with her?"

Malcolm nodded, finding it difficult to make eye contact with Harry. Harry, on the other hand, looked angry – he _felt_ angry – and he took a few deep breaths before he spoke.

"You've known all along where she is?" Harry's voice was louder than he'd intended, so he sat back after he'd spoken, knowing that Malcolm would not honour him with a reply until he'd calmed down.

"Not exactly, but after she'd been gone around 2 years I did a search, using the names on the passports she took with her. I found her in Cyprus, living with a doctor and his son in Polis. I made contact through a protected email account I set up for her before she left. I told her the day before she left that I would use it only if necessary, and that I'd respect her wishes should she wish to not reply."

"She replied?"

"Yes. Almost immediately. She was rather unhappy, and wanted to come home. I had to delete her emails for her safety, otherwise I'd show them to you. She missed you, Harry. She missed us all, and her relationship with the doctor was beginning to crumble. I told her that it was still not safe for her to return to the UK. At that time, Mace was still sniffing around Whitehall. So I found her a flat in Paris, and she kept that flat while she moved around Europe, mainly doing translation work for a contact of mine."

Harry sat back in his chair, and thought about what Malcolm had just told him. He was angry, while at the same time he was relieved. Ruth was wanting to come home. _He_ wanted her to come home. To _him_.

"Is she …...?"

"With anyone?"

Harry nodded, amazed at Malcolm's ability to pre-empt his question.

"No. She told me it's easier to be single when moving around as she has had to. Besides …... and I shouldn't really be telling you this, Harry …... she still has feelings for you. She hasn't come out and said it openly to me. That's not Ruth's way. It's just that every time I've made contact with her, she's asked after you."

This small snippet of news warmed Harry, but it was too early for such indulgences. "Does she know about those who have died since she left?"

"Yes. I told her the circumstances of each of the deaths, and that apart from you, there has been a total turnover of personnel in Section D. I think we have to be mindful that she has had to deal with this news on her own. It can't have been easy for her. She was especially cut up over Jo's death."

Harry nodded, taking it all in. Privately he was pleased that Ruth had asked after him, but he was nursing a kernel of irritation that Malcolm had kept his communications with Ruth a secret. Again, Malcolm seemed to read his mind.

"Harry …... I'm not sure why, but Ruth asked me specifically to not tell you anything about where she was living, and that she was in touch with me. It's been hard for me to keep all this to myself, especially knowing how you each feel about one another. I need to tell you that only a few months ago, I told Ruth that I thought you may have been moving on. It was then that she began to talk of coming back home."

"I hadn't moved on, Malcolm. Carol …... Stephanie …... was a distraction, nothing more. She couldn't take Ruth's place. No-one could."

Harry began to feel a surge of emotion, and so he stopped speaking, and concentrated on the amber liquid in his glass.

"You will find her changed, Harry. She's had to fend for herself for some time now. She'll need a job, but she may not need a boyfriend."

Harry felt it rising from his gut into his mouth …... the pain, the hurt, the rage at the injustice of it all. "The bathroom, Malcolm. Where is it?"

Malcolm could see the emotion Harry was holding in, and he directed him to the passageway, at the end of which was the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Harry closed the door behind him, and then lay his arms along the sides of the hand basin and allowed the tears to flow. Tears ran down his cheeks and fell from his face into the hand basin, from where they dripped down the porcelain and into the drain. He cried until he had no more tears left. His exhaustion led him to sitting on the cold tiled floor, his back against the tiled wall. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. A few sobs escaped him, as he allowed himself to feel what he'd held inside himself for over four years. He'd spilled himself into the body of Carol/Stephanie in order to offload his pain, but it had not worked for him. He'd growled disapproval and occasionally shouted at both Lucas North and Alec White, and he'd still felt pain. He'd drunk more whiskey than was good for him, frequently falling asleep drunk, but he invariably awoke with a knot of pain still deep in his gut. It hurt. Living for over four years not knowing if Ruth was alive or dead, happy or unhappy, safe or abused, had taken its toll on Harry.

There was a light tapping on the door. "Harry, are you alright? You've been in there a while."

"Yes," Harry replied, his voice croaky. "I'll be out in a minute."

He stood up, and crossed the room. He ran water in the sink, splashing his face with the water, and rinsed out his mouth. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he looked red-eyed and drained. He looked how he felt – sad and angry and grief-stricken, and totally exhausted from holding inside himself the pain of missing Ruth, all the time not knowing whether she was dead or alive. At least he'd not have to explain any of this to Malcolm.

Back in his den, Malcolm had arranged some plates of food on the coffee table, and a pot of fresh tea stood on a large cork coaster. There were sandwiches and biscuits and slices of cake.

"Malcolm, you shouldn't have," Harry said, hoping his friend could read the jape in his voice.

"Apart from the sandwiches, the rest is from the market. I know your eating habits, Harry. I imagine you haven't eaten since this morning."

"That's true, and thank you. I could do with some sustenance."

The two men ate in silence. The sandwiches were roast chicken with mayonnaise and lettuce, and Harry discovered he was ravenous. He knew he looked terrible, and that he'd been in the bathroom for almost half an hour, and that his eyes were puffy from crying, but neither man mentioned it. Malcolm was the essence of discretion, which was one of the features Harry valued in his friend.

"How soon can she come home?" Harry asked at last.

"As soon as she's packed and ready, and as soon as we have somewhere safe for her to live."

"I'll sort out a flat for her," Harry said quickly.

"You're not thinking of taking her home to your place?"

"No. As much as I might like that as an idea, I don't think she'd appreciate it. I'll try to find her a comfortable one-bedroom flat not too far from my place. I have one or two people who owe me favours. Leave it with me."

* * *

Ruth arrived back in London two days after Lucas North's body was found in the Forest of Dean, a little outside Yorkley in Gloucestershire. He had a bullet hole between his eyes, and another in his chest. The police had traced the gun to the Chinese mafia. Lucas had been playing in a very dirty pond indeed. Lucas' attempts to procure a Chinese-made weapon of mass destruction had resulted in his sudden death. He had stepped into a negotiation between a Triad boss and two former members of SAVAK, the former intelligence service in Iran, known for its methods of torture, and for executing people without trial. There were some for whom SAVAK still represented a way of life, despite it having been officially disbanded 30 years earlier. There was a ripple of gossip amongst some at Thames House that Lucas had sacrificed himself, thrown his life away. No-one knew the truth, nor would they ever know.

Harry had little time to mourn the loss of his section chief before he was faced with having to settle Ruth into her flat. The day after he had met Malcolm, Harry had rung Melvyn Grayson, a former friend from the army. Melvyn had made a killing in real estate during the 1980's, buying and selling with remarkable intuitive knowledge of the vicissitudes of the real estate market.

"I have two flats which fit that criteria, Harry. Both are less than three miles from your house. I'd recommend the one which is only just over a mile from you. My tenant skipped two weeks ago, leaving rent arrears, so I'll be happy to re-tenant it ASAP. It needs a coat of paint inside, and a repair or two, but I can let you have it for a good price."

Harry knew that the rent Melvyn had asked was well below the current market level, so he paid the bond and the first three months rent himself. The first thing he did was to have a security system installed. The flat was clean, and freshly painted, and furnished. It had a cosy feel to it, and Harry was sure that Ruth would like it.

He waited at the flat while Malcolm drove to the airport to collect Ruth. She had flown from Athens, having let her flat in Paris go some months before. Malcolm had suggested to Harry that he accompany him to the airport, but Harry wanted to greet Ruth alone. He wanted no prying eyes, even Malcolm's, whose eyes were the least prying of anyone he knew. Harry had bought fresh flowers from the market, and placed them in vases in the sitting room, and in the bedroom. He had filled her cupboards and refrigerator with as much food as he could cram in. He had purchased soaps and lotions, shampoos and shower gel, and left them in the bathroom for Ruth. He had bought some bath towels of Egyptian cotton, and left those in the bathroom also. He had bought a new duvet and cover and pillows and pillow cases for Ruth's bed, hoping that his choice – flowery, but quirky/artistic - was to her liking, and that he'd not stepped over any kind of personal boundary. He was dealing with a new Ruth, a different Ruth, a more independent Ruth, one who may not appreciate his clumsy attempts at welcoming her back home.

It had only been two weeks previously that he had visited Malcolm, and discovered what had happened to Ruth during her exile. That evening, just before he'd left to go home, Harry had written a brief email to Ruth using Malcolm's encrypted email program. Malcolm had discreetly left the den to wash their dishes, leaving Harry alone to compose an email to Ruth, their first communication in four years. Harry had struggled to find the right words to convey what he wanted to say to her, and in the end had chosen to keep it brief and simple.

_Dear Ruth,_

_Today Malcolm shared with me your desire to come home to London. I cannot tell you how happy I am that you will soon be here. I have missed you, and look forward to seeing you again. If you need work, for the past four years I have been short a really good intelligence analyst, so if you wish to step into the shoes of that brilliant analyst who worked with me back then (and whom I have missed more than words can convey), you will be most welcome._

_We have a lot to talk about, so I'll leave that until we meet again._

_Harry._

He had wanted to put an `x' after his name, but didn't want to push his luck. It was enough that she was coming home. Ruth had replied to Malcolm, but had not sent a personal reply to Harry, but he was not concerned about that. After all, Malcolm would read her reply first, so any reply she sent would not be very personal.

Harry heard the banging of car doors, and looking out the sitting room window, he saw Malcolm's car, with Malcolm hauling two suitcases out of the boot. Standing on the pavement waiting for Malcolm was a slightly built woman with shoulder-length brown hair. His heart began pounding rapidly in his chest.

Ruth was home. Harry was scared and ecstatic all at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

As Ruth and Malcolm walked up the pathway to the front door of the flat, Harry opened the door to let them in.

"Harry," Malcolm said, stepping through the door with Ruth's suitcases.

Harry only had eyes for Ruth. "Hello, Ruth," he said, his voice firm, hiding his nerves. To anyone who knew him, Harry seemed calm and in charge of himself. Only he knew how scared he was – that he would do or say something idiotic which could drive Ruth back into her shell.

"Hello, Harry," Ruth replied, standing in front of him, while Malcolm put the suitcases on the floor, by the wall, out of the way.

Harry's instinct was to gather Ruth in his arms. He'd forgotten how blue were her eyes, how small she was, how her hair caught the light, rendering it the colour of chocolate, and how kissable were her lips. He found himself drowning in her eyes. It took every ounce of his considerable self-control for him to step aside to allow Ruth to enter her own flat. As she brushed past him he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He felt heady and bedevilled by her presence. No sooner had Ruth stepped into the flat than Malcolm left.

"I'll leave you to it," he said quietly to Harry. "Don't overdo things. `Bye, Ruth. I'll check with you in a few days."

"Thank you, Malcolm," she said, standing next to Harry, himself still holding open the front door.

"You can close the door now, Harry," Ruth said, once Malcolm's car had disappeared down the street.

"I have a pot of tea brewing," Harry said, after he'd closed the door, and set the alarm. "You might like to have a look around the flat while I pour it."

Ruth smiled up at him, and his stomach did a little flip. "I'd rather like it if you showed me around, Harry. You seem to know your way around."

He led her around the flat. There was not a lot to see – kitchen, dining alcove, sitting room, entrance hallway, bedroom, and a tiled room which served as bathroom, toilet and laundry.

"This is a lovely room," Ruth said as she walked around the surprisingly spacious bedroom. "Are the flowers from you?" When he nodded, she smiled at him, and his stomach clenched. "Did you choose the duvet cover?"

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"Very much. You know me so well, Harry."

Harry felt embarrassed by her gratitude. He had organised a flat for her, paid her first three months rent, and decorated it for the Ruth he remembered, out of gratitude for her sacrifice four and a quarter years earlier. Harry turned, about to leave the room, when Ruth spoke very softly, her words stopping him in his tracks.

"I missed you, Harry." Her voice was soft, but highly charged with _something_ he could not quite identify. "Did you miss me?"

Harry stopped in the doorway, barely able to breathe. Whatever this was between them – at this moment, only ten minutes after she'd arrived home – whatever it was, it was happening too soon. He wasn't ready. Slowly, Harry turned, to see Ruth watching him, her eyes darkly blue, searching his own eyes. "Yes," he whispered. "I missed you every single day."

They were standing perhaps a yard and a half apart, too far apart to reach out and touch one another. They each stood on the spot, watching the other …... and waiting. Harry allowed his eyes to travel up and down Ruth's body, the moment making him bold. Her chest was heaving, as her eyes watched him closely. He noticed suddenly that her breasts were not quite as full as he'd remembered, but perhaps he had remembered them as larger because in his private moments, alone in his house, he had tended to obsess over them, imagining them as being more – larger, rounder – than the reality. Emboldened, Harry took a step towards her, and reached his hand towards her hand. Without taking her eyes from his, Ruth grasped Harry's hand, and pulled it against her stomach, where she held it in both her hands.

Harry was becoming completely lost in her. Whatever it was happening between them, he didn't want it to stop. He wanted to step closer to her, and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to kiss her until he took her breath away. He wanted to lead her to the bed behind her, carefully remove her clothes and his, and make love to her, slowly and thoroughly. But he wasn't ready to have this happen on this day.

"Ruth," he said, engaging all his reserves of self-control. "I want to be here with you. I've missed you. I want nothing more than to kiss you right now …..."

"But …... there's a but, isn't there?"

"We have so much we need to say to one another. There's so much we've both lived through. I need to know what happened while you were ... away."

Ruth nodded. Harry held her hand and led her to the kitchen, where he sat her on a chair, and poured them each a cup of tea.

"Malcolm told me you'd met someone," Ruth said, once they had settled across the small table from one another. "He said you'd moved on."

"I was waiting for you to mention that. It wasn't a relationship, Ruth, and I didn't move on. I had sex with a woman on a semi-regular basis in an attempt to drive thoughts of you from my mind."

"Did it work?"

"No. No, it didn't."

"Did you love her?" The Ruth who had left London would never have asked such a question. This new Ruth didn't hesitate to ask.

"No, Ruth. It was purely physical. I haven't seen her in …... some weeks, since I knew you were planning to come home. I gave her a fake name, and it seems she did the same. I really have no idea at all who she is …... and it doesn't matter. Not to me. And she can't contact me now ... now I have a new phone number." Harry waited, not wanting to tell her any more about Stephanie Hoff. It hadn't been his finest hour. "You lived with someone in Cyprus. Was he …... important to you?"

"At the time, yes he was. That was my attempt to move on, Harry, but it didn't work for me either. I expected more from him than he was capable of giving. He wasn't you, Harry."

Her last four words said it all. Those four words were the reason they were sitting at that table, less than an hour after Ruth had arrived from Athens. Those four words were the reason his heart was beating too fast, and his face was flushed, just from sitting across from her at her small dining table, which he had carefully chosen to replace the sorry looking table which had had a scratched surface, and a wonky leg. Those four words were the reason Ruth was having difficulty avoiding saying the words, `Harry, please stay the night with me.'

Harry breathed deeply in an effort to bring his body under control. He was in danger of taking her hand and leading her back to the bedroom; that is what he wanted to do. "I think I should go," he said quietly, unable to look across the table at Ruth.

"Do you want to?" she replied.

"No. I don't want to go," he whispered.

"Then stay."

He stood quickly, and stepped away from the table, still not looking her in the eye.

"I want you to know, Ruth," he said carefully, "that leaving you right now is almost as difficult as it was watching you leave me that morning a little over four years ago." He looked up at her then. "I'm leaving now because I should, because it's the right thing to be doing …... not because I want to. I need you to know that."

With that, Harry left.

* * *

Ruth spent the rest of the day unpacking and finding storage places for the things she'd brought back from Greece. She had to keep busy, because her mind was full with Harry. He was so much more than she'd remembered. He was more …... of everything …... and she was as hopelessly drawn to him as ever. Several times during the afternoon, Ruth considered going around to Harry's house, knocking on the door, and pushing her way past him. She'd stay with him, and refuse to leave. Somehow, she hadn't quite the bottle to carry that off.

At the very bottom of the larger of her two suitcases was a packet of photographs, the only proof that existed she'd ever met George and his son, Nico, Clara, her neighbour in Paris, or Jorge, the man who arranged for her to do translations in different parts of Europe. These people had taken her in as friend, employee, and lover. One day she would tell Harry about her life with George, but now was not the time. He would be upset and angry to learn that George had wanted them to have a child, but Ruth had refused to go along with it. From that moment, her relationship with George was doomed. While she had been looking to George for companionship and sanctuary, he had been hoping she would help him expand his small family. She had been unable to tell him that were she ever to have a child, there was only one man on earth she would want to be that child's father, and that man lived in England, and was a section head in MI-5. Rather than helping her move on from loving Harry, her twenty months living with George had only resulted in her loving Harry even more.

The last item she had to check was her shoulder bag. She tipped its contents on to the table, and amongst the tissues, and tampons, and passports, bus and train tickets, lipsticks and chap sticks, combs and hair-clips, was the new mobile phone Malcolm had handed her before they'd left the airport.

"Guard this with your life," he'd said. "The only numbers on it so far are mine and Harry's. Harry's is the number at the top. I'm the only one with the facility to find you if you're carrying this phone. It will not register on all the usual networks. There is an embedded chip which I can track, even when the phone is turned off. That is your protection, but it may also be your downfall. If you ever find yourself outside your normal field of activity, let me know, or if I'm not in the country, let Harry know."

Ruth wasn't sure why such safeguards were necessary, but she was sure that in time, Malcolm's caution would make more sense to her. After she had left Cyprus (one afternoon while George was working a double shift at the hospital) she had managed to stay on the move. It was safer that way. She had hoped that by living back in London, she would be safer, and such high levels of caution would not be necessary.

Ruth had eaten dinner while watching the News on TV, and was running herself a bath when the front doorbell rang. To her knowledge, only two people knew where she lived, and it was very unlikely Malcolm would turn up without asking or announcing himself. She quickly turned off the taps over her bath before she walked down her short hallway to open the door. On her doorstep, Harry was standing in the dark, his familiar body shape silhouetted against a streetlight.

"Harry ….."

"May I come in, Ruth?"

Ruth stood aside to let him past her. He looked nervous. He smelled familiar, just like she'd remembered him from before, and when he put his arms around her, and pulled her to him, he felt wonderful. All at once he felt solid, firm, and soft as a mattress.

"I tried, but I couldn't stay away," he said against her hair, his hands travelling over her back, from her shoulders down to the rise of her buttocks. His hands were so warm, and they left a trail of heat wherever they touched her. She briefly imagined her skin covered with red hand prints the size and shape of Harry's hands.

"I'm glad," was all she was able to say, as she tucked her hands around him, under his bulky jumper. Between his jumper and his shirt, she ran her fingers up and down the knobbly bones of his spine.

When they stumbled to the kitchen, he pushed her against the counter, and kissed her fiercely. This was such a different kind of kiss to the kiss of goodbye on the day she'd left England forever. That had been such a sad kiss, a kiss of regret. This time they kissed with passion and fire, their bodies hard against one another. Ruth could feel Harry's arousal against her stomach as he pressed himself against her. There was not a shred of ambiguity about why he had knocked on her front door. Her body was on fire, and his was seeking more of her.

Unlike several occasions in their past, she was not about to push him away. Her mind was telling her that this was happening too soon for them, they had only just been reunited after years apart. Another part of her argued that if this didn't happen now, it possibly never would. Perhaps the time was right. It felt perfect. _He_ felt perfect. She suspected that were she to turn him away this time, he would walk away from her forever. A man like Harry could take only so much rejection.

All Ruth knew was that she didn't want to see him walking away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks to all who are reading this, and to those who have taken time out to leave reviews. I am always amazed (and intrigued) by what interests the readers. I find reviews highly entertaining. **_

* * *

They stumbled towards the bedroom, exchanging kisses and caresses all the way. Occasionally, they stopped to search deeper with their mouths or their hands. In the bedroom, Harry reached down to turn on the lamp beside the bed, the light from which cast a soft glow over the room, so that their bodies threw giant distorted shadows across the walls as they moved towards the bed. They removed their clothes quickly, barely leaving time to savour the new skin exposed – breasts, chest, stomachs, thighs, throats, and other places.

Harry stood back and pulled back the duvet for her to slide under. In that moment, Ruth saw how sturdy Harry was, his shoulders and biceps strong and muscled, his thighs powerful. He had a belly, but he was a middle-aged man. He seemed a little heavier than when she'd last been in England. There was a layer of excess flesh around his middle, and he had the beginnings of jowls, and the flesh at his throat was no longer as tight. Strangely, for a woman who had always preferred her men to be young and fit, the signs of aging on Harry's body didn't bother her. He was still Harry, and Harry was a very attractive man, and he knew how to play her body with similar skill to a harpist with the Royal Philharmonic. Ruth slid under the duvet, and across to the other side of the bed to make room for him. In that moment, as she turned to face Harry as he climbed into bed beside her, her eyes focussed at last on his erection. He was fully erect, as hard as any man thirty years younger than he. For a moment she wondered how what she saw was going to fit inside her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, sliding across to wrap his arms around her. "Do you still want this?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I saw you looking at …... this," he said, thrusting himself against her thigh, "and you looked scared. We don't have to do this if you're not ready."

"I was surprised, not scared."

"Surprised?"

"You're so …... hard, Harry."

"That's what happens when a man becomes aroused, Ruth."

"I know that." Ruth waited, running her fingers along Harry's sides, trying to find the right words.

"Say it, Ruth. Say what you want to say."

Ruth took a deep breath, realising that this was not the moment for her to be struck by shyness. "I was wondering …... how something that big will fit inside me."

When he didn't answer, she pulled away from him slightly to look at his face. He was looking at her with a playful expression, and the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

"You do know that vaginal walls stretch, Ruth. If they can accommodate a baby's head, then they can manage little ol' this," and he again pushed himself against her thigh.

Ruth buried her face against his bare chest and giggled, feeling quite the idiot.

"You must think me so naïve," she said, again pulling back to look at Harry's face.

"I think you're extraordinary, Ruth, and I feel privileged that you've chosen me to be your lover."

"You're not my lover yet."

"Then maybe we should stop talking, and do something about that."

Harry carefully took Ruth's hand, the one she was running up and down his side, and led her down to his erection, still hard, as it rested against her leg. He placed her hand on him, and smiled at her.

"Perhaps if you touch it, Ruth, it will demystify it. It's just a piece of flesh filled with most of the blood which normally helps my brain function, so if I'm not making much sense, that is why."

Harry was still smiling, as she grasped him in her palm, and began to stroke him slowly.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"That's …..." and he was unable to finish his sentence, as he rolled on to his back, and sighed with pleasure.

Ruth was enjoying herself, but she knew she should stop soon, or else he might come too soon. She took her hand from his penis, and gently cupped his balls, aware of how delicate they were, and then she feathered her fingers down one inner thigh to his knee, and then back up the other inner thigh. Harry's eyes were closed, and his expression was one of bliss. Ruth's fingers, barely touching his skin, then travelled up over his genitals, and to his belly. Harry groaned then, and turned towards her, his eyes open, his pupils dilated. He touched her abdomen with his fingers, and began a journey over her skin, in much the same way as she had just done for him.

It was when his fingers found her entrance, and slipped inside her that Ruth's first climax overwhelmed her. His mouth was on one of her breasts, and his tongue vibrated across her nipple, sending pulses between her breasts and her pelvic region. Harry kept stimulating her while her orgasm continued, almost exhausting her. When her body had stopped pulsing, she curled into a ball, against Harry's chest, while she rested. Eventually, her fingers again found his erection, and she ran the backs of her fingers lightly along his length, while he lifted her face to his, and kissed her deeply.

Harry was a very good kisser. She'd remembered that from the evening after they'd gone to dinner, when she'd led him into her house so that they could share a proper kiss. Ruth suddenly had no idea why she'd turned down his invitation to go to dinner again. Nothing about that time in her life made sense any more. How could she deny him _this_? How could she have thought it was a good idea to deny herself _this_? They needed one another, and in a world full of pain and struggle, _this_ was healthy and safe and rather wonderful. Perhaps she had been afraid of feeling …... _feeling what?_ …... feeling alive, feeling arousal like she'd felt this night, feeling love. She loved Harry, of that she had no doubt. She'd never ever stopped loving him.

By the time Ruth again opened her eyes, she was lying on her back, her legs apart, knees bent, and with Harry resting his body between them. His face was very close to hers, and he reached down to kiss her slowly, his tongue searching inside her mouth, as though he was familiarising himself with this part of her. She ran her hands down his sides and back again. She felt the head of his penis against her, so she lifted her hips until he could enter her. He slipped inside her quietly. All Ruth's fears about him being too big to fit were quashed in a matter of seconds. He fit her like they were born to go together – foot in sock, finger in glove, sword in sheath. She sighed as he eased himself fully inside her.

"Are you okay?" he whispered against her ear.

"Better than okay," she answered, placing her lips against his neck. "You're wonderful," she said as she breathed out.

"So are you."

Harry began moving inside her, slowly at first, until he found the right angle, and they adjusted themselves to fit one another. This was their first time, and so they were spending a little time in familiarising themselves with the other body. Eventually they felt comfortable, and so Harry thrust deeper, and a little faster. Ruth opened her eyes to find his on her. His eyes were penetrating her, matching the penetration of another part of her. Ruth never wanted to forget this moment. This was special. This was Harry. This was her first time with Harry, and she felt …... she felt …... Ruth's orgasm burst through her, creating a spasm through her whole body. She breathed out Harry's name, a cross between a sigh and a cry. He sped up, and followed her, gasping as his climax had him pushing into her as deeply as he could.

They lay together, he still inside her, his head resting beside hers, her knees bent, holding him tight, her arms around his shoulders, his body weight resting on his elbows, until their breathing steadied, until the stars in their eyes blinked out.

When she felt Harry lift his head, she opened her eyes to look at him. The raw love in his eyes brought tears to her own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern shown by the crease between his eyebrows.

"That's the third time you've asked me," she said quietly. "I'm fine, Harry. More than fine. Are _you_ alright?"

Harry smiled then, his face softening with the smile. "I'm about the most alright I've ever been."

Something broke inside Ruth then, and she began sobbing, a few tears running from the edges of her eyes on to the pillow beneath her head.

Harry withdrew from her then, and holding her close to him, he rolled on to his side on the bed beside her. He put his hand behind her head, and drew her face to his shoulder. "It's alright Ruth. What's wrong? Did I hurt you."

Despite the sobbing which she seemed unable to stop, Ruth pulled her head away, and looked at him. "No, Harry, you didn't hurt me. I'm happy. I think I'm crying because I'm happy. I've spent so long running and hiding, and now I can …... stop running …... stop being scared." Ruth grabbed the duvet, and wiped her eyes with the corner.

She allowed him to pull her close again, and she let her head drop on to his chest. It felt safe against his wide body, and the post coital tingling in her body was like the softest of fairy music.

"Harry," she said after a while, "stay."

He took a while to answer her. "Do you mean stay the night?"

"Yes. I want you to stay here. With me."

So he stayed, and they slept, and Ruth's bath water went cold.

* * *

Ruth slept in, something which had been only an occasional luxury for her while she was in exile. She opened her eyes to find herself alone in bed, but the dent in the pillow beside hers told her that last night had been no dream, and the note under the clock beside her bed told her that Harry had already left. She buried her face in the pillow where his head had rested as he slept, and she breathed in his scent. She felt tears pricking her eyes, so she took the note from under the clock, and read it.

_Dearest Ruth_, he wrote,

_I had an early morning call into work. Something about Lucas North's killers. There is no such thing as a Sunday lie-in at MI-5. I'll ring you later today when the dust settles. Last night was wonderful. It will fuel my smile all day, and my staff will be gossiping about what drug I might be on. Little do they know that my drug of choice is you._

_I love you _

_Harry xx_

Ruth traced her finger over his name, and then the kisses he'd added after his name. She put her lips to the note. She became aware of a small voice inside her telling her that it was happening too fast with Harry, that this was not wise, and that this was not the way she and he did things, but she silenced that voice. How could something which felt so good, so right, be bad for them, for her? It was only the night previously that she had decided to not deny Harry, to not deny herself. She was not about to go back on that decision.

Ruth slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Perhaps now would be a fine time to take that bath.

* * *

Harry arrived back at Ruth's flat around 8 pm. He had showered and changed into casual clothes, and in his hands he carried a takeaway Indian meal and a bottle of white wine.

"Do you think I could come into work tomorrow?" Ruth asked him once they were sitting in the living room, the bottle of wine between them on the low table.

"I don't see why not. Young Tariq could do with your assistance. I think you'll get on well with him."

"Malcolm filled me in on those who are on the Grid. It sounded like he admired Tariq."

"Malcolm admires anyone who can speak his language. I introduced them to one another last year, soon after Tariq joined us. I thought the lad could do with a mentor."

Ruth noticed a small change in Harry. He seemed distracted and a little distant, but that could have been because of his long day at work.

"Is something wrong?" she asked at last.

Harry looked startled, and pulled her against him. He kissed her temple and slid his arm around her. "It was a long day, Ruth, and Tariq uncovered some information from Lucas' phone which has disturbed me."

"Do you want to share what that was? After all, I'll be at work tomorrow, and one of my roles with you – both professionally and personally – is to be your confidante."

Harry sighed heavily. "I guess I ought to be telling you this, even though I'd rather keep it to myself."

"A burden shared is a burden halved …... or something like that. I'm here, Harry. I'm here to help shoulder those burdens. You shouldn't have to carry them all on your own."

Harry lifted her chin with his free hand, and kissed her gently. The uncontrolled passion of the night before was no longer there. This was Real Life pushing it's cold wet nose into their cosy life.

"Lucas received a text message before he went to meet the Chinese in Gloucester." He breathed in and out quite heavily before he continued. "Even though the number of the phone which had sent the message was blocked, Tariq has developed a tricky little program which can identify any phone anywhere in the world. Something to do with being able to remotely identify the IMEI number. The phone which sent the message to Lucas, which led him into the trap which resulted in his death, was owned by a woman called Stephanie Hoff. Her husband is a German aeronautical engineer who has a contract with an English aeronautical company. Malcolm also suspects that this man is selling designs for weapons to some Middle Eastern countries."

"That's awful for Lucas, but isn't this good news? You know know who to pull in, don't you?"

"Yes, that's one way of looking at it. We have some agents from Six who are stationed in Stuttgart out searching for her as we speak. The bad news is …... this woman, Stephanie Hoff, is the same woman with whom I was having sex for almost a year and a half."


	5. Chapter 5

At the words, `this woman, Stephanie Hoff, is the same woman with whom I was having sex for almost a year and a half', Ruth pulled out of Harry's embrace and concentrated on the almost empty bottle of wine on the table. Harry let his hands drop into his lap. He felt bereft. This could spell the end of them, and they'd only just begun. It had been such a wonderful twenty-four hours, and now they would be split apart by his need for some uncomplicated sex. _Bloody hell! What was wrong with him? _ He turned, expecting to see hurt on Ruth's face.

"I didn't know who she was when we were …... She told me her name was Carol Klein, and I believed her, because when I checked her details, there was a Carol Klein living at that address, and she came up clean."

Ruth turned to look at him at last, and her face showed concern for him, and that surprised him. "Did she ever tell you what she did for a living? Did she know what you did?"

"No. I had no idea what she did, and I thought she knew nothing about me. We didn't talk, Ruth, we just …... fucked …... and it wasn't meaningful sex, it was just …... it was just release for me. At the time, I thought I'd never see you again." Harry's voice petered out, as he recognised he may have sounded like he was trying to justify his actions.

Suddenly, Ruth put out her hand, and cupped his jaw, turning him to face her.

"You don't have to explain it to me, Harry. When you were …... shagging this woman, I was far away. I have no reason to judge you or lay blame at your door. You were alone, lonely, and you were in need of comfort. I can understand that. She was available, and she made no demands on you. I am not jealous of her – why would I be? - and I'm in no position to be judging your actions. After all, I tried to forget you by forming a relationship with a man in Cyprus. That didn't work very well for me, either. Harry, I know you had no feelings for her, but now you feel guilty because your …... liaison with this woman may have led to Lucas' death."

"Yes," he whispered, and he grasped the hand she held against his face, and kissed her palm. "I don't deserve you, Ruth."

Ruth reached up to him, and pulled his face down to her own. She kissed him deeply, her tongue on his lips encouraging his own mouth to open under hers. Before too long, Ruth's hands were under his shirt, and her fingertips were setting small fires against the skin of his stomach and chest. He had pulled off her jumper and was undoing her shirt buttons when she said the word, `bedroom', so they rose from the sofa, and continued their exploration while lying on the bed.

Unlike the night before, they undressed slowly, taking their time to kiss and caress the skin of the other as gradually more skin was uncovered. When she'd opened the last of Harry's shirt buttons, Ruth revelled in planting kisses all down his chest and stomach to the top of his trousers, while in turn, Harry's mouth was busily exploring her neck and shoulders. When he unclasped her bra – one-handed, too – he gasped as her breasts were revealed. "God, you're beautiful!" he said, before his hands and mouth became busy with giving them attention. Ruth ran her fingers through his hair, much longer now than before she left London. As he was busy with her breasts, she planted intermittent kisses on the top of his head. His Harry-smell was strong on his scalp …... a mixture of his shampoo, cologne, and his natural body odour. She wished she could bottle his scent and carry it with her for the times when he was away from her.

They left their underwear until last, akin to saving the best gift to open last. He pulled her knickers off her slowly, kissing her skin as it was revealed. Ruth experienced her first climax while he was kissing her between her legs. She was sure his tongue had magical powers.

"Your turn now," she said, pushing him on to his back, while she ever-so-slowly removed his trunks, and slid them down his legs. Ruth was about to take him in her mouth when he covered himself with his hand.

"If you do that now, Ruth, it will be all over in seconds. I don't know about you, but I'm ready."

Sensing a change in dynamic between them, Ruth pushed him on to his back, and lifted herself so that she straddled his body. She knew that the heat from between her legs would bring him straight to climax were she to sit directly over him, so she sat herself over the lower part of his belly, and leaned over him so that her breasts were close to his mouth. She closed her eyes as he took each breast in his mouth. His erection was hard against her buttocks, so very slowly and carefully, she lifted herself off his belly, and lowered herself on to his erection. Very slowly. He groaned against her skin as he lifted his pelvis to push himself inside her further.

But she was the one in control, so she adjusted her body so that he was fully inside her, and then she lay against his chest, straightened and closed her legs, so that she held him tightly. She lifted her pelvis up and down, slowly at first, but when she heard Harry's breathing becoming rapid and shallow, she sped up her movement. He climaxed quickly, breathing out heavily next to her ear.

"Sit up, Ruth," he managed to say, and so she did, still with him inside her.

Harry reached down and circled his thumb over and around her clitoris until she exploded with an intense orgasm. She collapsed on top of him, and they lay together, exhausted, until they began to feel cold. When she felt his flaccid penis slip out of her, Ruth rolled off his body, and lay beside him, his arm curved around her to keep her close, while he pulled the duvet over them to cover them.

"I'm so relieved that you know where to find the clitoris, Harry. I think they should teach it in schools, beginning in about Year 10."

Harry chuckled against her hair, pulling her closer. "There are some advantages to having once been a serial womaniser."

They slept until early in the morning, when they both had to get up and get ready for work. Harry had brought with him a spare set of clothes for work, so when they left Ruth's flat at a little after 6.30 am, they were about to drive into Thames House together. Ruth was no longer worried that there may be gossip about them arriving together. She had left that Ruth in Cyprus. George's criticism and taunting of her when she refused to have his child had taught her to take the words of others with a pinch of salt. Teasing, taunting, harsh words all rolled off her, never again to hurt her.

It was still dark as they walked down the path to Harry's car, and he opened the passenger door for her to climb in. What neither saw was a man standing in a darkened doorway diagonally across the road from Ruth's flat. He wore a heavy coat, and his attention was apparently on the road itself, as though he were waiting for someone to pick him up, while out the corner of his eye, he watched the couple drive away together.

* * *

It took less than a day for Ruth to get back into her stride. Much of that time was spent in acquainting herself with her colleagues, people whom she needed to trust, such was the nature of their work. She saw little of Harry, but when he returned from a meeting with the Home Secretary, he looked across the Grid, and seeing her eyes on him, he gave a her a wide smile. Ruth felt a warm flush course through her body. She found it hard to believe that only three days previously she'd still been in Athens, wondering whether Harry would still be interested in her, now that he had `moved on'. She could not, even in her most imaginative of dreams, have believed that what would happen between them would have brought them this close in such a short space of time. She watched him walk into his office. Through the big window her eyes followed him as he took off his coat, hung it up, and then sat down behind his desk. He looked up to see her watching him. He picked up his phone and called her on her mobile.

"Do you want to take a break for lunch? With me?" he said.

"I shouldn't. I have so much work to do. Tariq and I are trying to trace Stephanie Hoff's movements, and he's having difficulty hacking her phone. It seems she has -"

"Bugger Tariq. Bugger Stephanie Hoff, and for the next hour, bugger her phone. I miss you. I'll meet you on the embankment in thirty minutes. I'll buy us some sandwiches. What would you like?"

"Anything, so long as there are no pickles. I don't like pickles."

"I can do that. I'll see you in half an hour."

Thirty-three minutes later, Ruth sat down on the bench next to Harry. She kept a little distance between them until he reached out and put his arm around her, and pulled her closer.

"What's the point in going out for lunch if we can't enjoy a little snog while we're at it?" He reached across and gently kissed her. He was _such_ a good kisser. His lips were soft and warm and comforting.

"Do you think any of our colleagues know what's happening between us?"

"I'm sure they all know, Ruth. Patsy in Six has been here since before Moses was born, and she knew about us back when we went out to dinner."

"_How_?"

"She and Malcolm were like_ that_," he said, hooking together his index and middle fingers. "They gossiped a lot, so Pats knows more about our history than we ourselves know."

"It's such an incestuous place," Ruth commented.

"All workplaces are like that. It's just what people do. It doesn't mean anything."

They ate their sandwiches in silence, occasionally making noises of pleasure.

"This turkey salad sandwich is really good," Harry commented.

"Why didn't you get me one of those?"

"It has pickles."

"So you could have asked them to hold the pickles …... isn't that what the cousins say?"

"I believe so, Ruth."

"Listen to us ….. we sound like an old married couple. Talking about inane stuff like the food."

Harry turned then, and looked at her. "You do know that I've always seen us married. That's what I saw for us back at the time you had to leave."

"I was just making a joke, Harry."

"But I'm not. I'm serious about this."

"Harry, we've been sleeping together for two days, and we still have yet to live together. I'm still adjusting to the climate, the job, being free again, being _Ruth_ again, and having you in my life. Adding marriage to the mix is just one factor too many at present. Can we talk about it again in …... oh …... six months or so?"

He smiled at her, and reached across to give her a quick kiss.

Around eighty yards further down the embankment, a man in a clown suit lifted his camera, and took a series of quick photographs. By design, in the centre of his photos of the Houses Of Parliament a couple sat on a bench beside the Thames, kissing and then pulling apart and smiling at one another.

* * *

Despite the long days, Ruth's first week back on the Grid passed rather quickly. Harry had a meeting at Whitehall on Friday afternoon, and so had little idea when he'd be home, so Ruth travelled back to her flat by bus. They had spent every night together in her flat, eating together, bathing together, and they slept together each night, and woke up together each morning. Harry had been right. It was like being married, and despite her misgivings, Ruth was enjoying having Harry to herself out of hours.

There was still a lot they didn't know about the reasons Lucas North had been led to his death. The Chinese triads were not the real culprits, despite them being the ones who pulled the trigger to shoot him. It was too convenient to blame them. Tariq had some ideas, but Ruth was not so sure. They disagreed about the possible involvement of the CIA. Ruth was sure that Stephanie Hoff was the key to it all, and when they uncovered her involvement, and found a connection between her and the weapon itself, the rest would fall into place. Unfortunately for Ruth's theory, Gunther Hoff had disappeared from the face of the planet.

On Friday night, Ruth went to bed alone, not yet concerned that Harry had not arrived home. It was possible that he was so tired that he had chosen to go straight to his house to sleep, and that she would see him on the Grid in the morning. When Ruth awoke at 6 am, there was still no sign of Harry, and when she rang his mobile, it went straight to voicemail. Arriving on the Grid at 7.30, Erin walked straight up to her and asked her whether she knew of Harry's whereabouts. It was then that Ruth began to feel a knot of fear in her stomach. It was not like Harry to simply go dark without warning those who worked with him. It was not like Harry to disappear without telling Ruth. He wouldn't have done that before they were in a relationship, so he was even less likely to do that now.

"I've sent Dimitri around to Harry's house, and there's no-one home. His neighbours – one on each side – have said he's not been home for a few days."

Ruth felt her face redden, and she stuttered her explanation, remnants of her life from five years earlier emerging. "He's been living with me since I got home. We're ….."

"It's clear you're in a relationship, Ruth," Erin said matter-of-factly. "I hadn't known he was staying with you. I assumed you'd be living with him." Erin just as matter-of-factly changed direction. "Tariq has been trying his mobile number for an hour now. It keeps -"

"Going to voicemail. I know," said Ruth. "When was he last seen? I haven't seen him since I left to have lunch at one o'clock yesterday. I asked him to have lunch with me, but he was too busy."

"Tariq," Erin called across to the young techie, "when did you last see Harry?"

"He had a meeting at Whitehall beginning at 3. I checked there ten minutes ago, and he never turned up."

"How was he getting there?"

"The weather was fine yesterday," said Ruth, "and he told me he was planning to walk, and perhaps call his driver to take him home after the meeting."

"So," said Tariq, joining Ruth and Erin by Ruth's desk, "he disappeared somewhere between here and Whitehall. I was here when he left. I should be able to check his time of leaving with the front desk."

"I'll do that," Ruth replied, relieved to have something to do other than worry. Ruth knew that to worry about Harry's safety at this early stage was not productive, but she couldn't help it. She loved him, and didn't want to lose him so soon after they'd found one another again. She knew that within her wild imagination, she was galloping off in the direction of having to identify Harry's battered body, and then having to choose someone to deliver the eulogy at his funeral. _Not useful, Ruth!_

Suddenly, she remembered something very, very important.


	6. Chapter 6

"Tariq," she called out across the Grid. "Have you informed Malcolm Wynn-Jones that Harry is missing?"

"No. Why?"

"Malcolm is the only person who can trace Harry's phone – and mine – even if it's turned off. I doubt Harry would go anywhere without that phone. Will you ring Malcolm, or should I?"

"I'll do it."

Tariq picked up his desk phone and called Malcolm, while Ruth busied herself contacting the front desk.

"Sir Harry signed out at 2.36 pm, Miss Evershed. I remember it clearly. He smiled and said it was a nice day for a walk. I thought that most uncharacteristic of him."

"Thank you, Bryan," Ruth replied, and hung up, writing the information on a blank pad on her desk. She couldn't help smiling at Bryan's comment. Harry certainly had been uncharacteristically happy during the past week, and she knew the reason. There was a very, _very_ good reason. She looked towards Tariq, sitting at his desk with the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, signalling for she and Erin to come over.

"Yes, I'll tell them," he was saying into the phone. "Do you want me to stay on the line? Okay, speaker phone it is, then."

Tariq turned the phone to speaker, and put the phone back into the cradle. Malcolm's voice came over speaker phone.

"Ruth, are you there?"

"Yes, Malcolm. I'm here, and so is Erin Watts."

"I have an address for Harry's phone. Do you have someone out in the field currently? Someone who can get there quickly. I think we should get a rescue team on to it immediately. Harry's been missing over twelve hours, and his phone has been at this address for just on twelve hours, so every second may count."

"Malcolm, this is Erin Watts. I'll get Dimitri on the line. He's out with Calum Reid, and one of our junior operatives, Jason Craig. There are two more junior operatives in the area who can assist."

Erin opened her mobile, and pressed the third number on her speed dial. "Dimitri, I have an urgent job for you. Drop everything. Harry's seems to have been abducted, and he has been taken to this address. Malcolm?"

Malcolm gave the address, and Ruth's face went pale when she heard it. It was an industrial estate on a large patch of wasteland. Getting there unnoticed could prove difficult.

"Did you get that, Dimitri? Repeat it. Good. Now, get there, and if you need backup, wait for it to arrive. Don't be a hero. I don't think they'll let you just waltz in and ask for Harry back."

* * *

Harry lay on the cold cement floor in the dark, his hands tied behind his back, and his ankles tied. Both sets of ties were connected with a longer tie, forcing his ankles up towards his buttocks. He was cold, hungry, thirsty, and he missed Ruth. He was also afraid. He now had so much to live for, and yet he may not come out of this alive. His jacket had been ripped from his back as he was pushed into the building blind-folded. He had little sense of the time of day, or how long he'd been kept captive in this room. The sounds from outside the building were muted, and there were no tell-tale sounds, such as trains, aeroplanes, church bells, or industrial activity. Harry couldn't determine whether the dull hum he heard was the city in the distance, or the buzzing of pain inside his head.

Ruth knew to contact Malcolm if anything happened to him, and Malcolm would be able to trace him through his phone …... which was in his jacket. Even if his captors smashed his phone, he could still be traced through the chip beneath the battery. So where were they?

He tasted blood at the corner of his mouth. He'd been kicked and punched, mostly on his body. The last time they'd come to him, he'd been sat on a chair, and punched around the head. He felt quite well, considering he'd thus far received four beatings. He was sure he had sustained a couple of broken ribs, as it hurt to breathe, and should he ever get out of here, his face would look even less attractive than usual. He was attempting to focus his thoughts on Ruth, trying to figure out why it was she hadn't raised the alarm, when the door again opened, and a sliver of light spilled into the room.

"Harry Pearce," he heard a heavily accented voice say, "we meet again."

Harry breathed out heavily, a sense of dread settling in his gut. The voice belonged to an old adversary of his, someone he'd believed to have been executed over thirty years earlier. It was Babak Raad, former deputy director of SAVAK, the former intelligence service in Iran. They had been the bloodiest of all intelligence services. There were those who had been high up in the organisation who had escaped execution for their crimes. Babak Raad was one such man.

Harry closed his eyes and thought of Ruth. If he was about to die, he wanted his last thoughts on earth to be of her.

* * *

"We have CO19 on standby," Dimitri's voice came over comms. "We have evidence of five people in the building, and they appear to be in the basement, which makes our job easier, but still difficult. The basement has no windows, and only one entrance, so we'll have to go in with night-vision goggles, as will CO19. Alternatively, we could take in floodlights and provide our own light. If Harry is one of these five, then the other four will need to be taken out one at a time. We'll use silencers. Jason and I will go in first. He has the marksman skills, as have I. I'm leaving Calum with the van, overseeing comms. And he's not happy about that."

"Always the bloody bridesmaid," came Calum's voice in the background.

"We're now about to go silent. I'm leaving comms on, but we'll not be speaking until we have Harry. And we _will_ get him back. We all need him …... not just you, Ruth."

At Dimitri's words, Ruth looked up at the others, feeling embarrassed. They all knew about she and Harry, of course, but mostly no-one ever mentioned it.

* * *

Raad had not laid a finger on Harry. In some ways that was worse.

"We need to know where you're storing the uranium, Harry. If you can't tell us, we know who will. We have her just through that doorway."

Suddenly the sound of a woman's screams echoed through the room. It was a muffled, distant sound, but seemed to come from close by. The scream went on and on, and then faded out to a cry, an animal wail. Was that Ruth? Did they have her? Is that why no-one had come to find him?

Before he could make sense of the screaming, a couple of thugs whose smell he remembered from his earlier beatings lifted him from the floor, untied the tie which held his feet and hands together, and then they roughly sat him on a chair. A light was turned on, and he had to close his eyes.

"I need water," Harry said, his mouth and throat almost too dry for him to speak.

"In good time, my friend," Said Raad. "I need to know where the uranium is. Your girlfriend didn't know, so she's being …... well, you can hear that, can't you?"

Another muffled female scream rang out. Harry was having difficulty in focusing. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was about to speak, and he felt a blow to the side of his head which shattered any clear thoughts which were forming.

"Where. ….. is …... the …... fucking …... uranium ….. Harry? I'm being nice. To you, at least. Your lady is not so nice. She won't …... how do you English say it? …... she won't put out. So ….. we maybe have to remedy that."

Harry remained silent. He had to believe that this was a bluff, and that they didn't have Ruth. He'd never heard Ruth screaming (her cries as she climaxed were audible sighs, not screams) and so he had no idea how she sounded when she screamed. Could it be her? He couldn't say for sure.

"What would you want with uranium?" Harry said at last.

"It's not me who wants it. I'm just a …... a gopher. This time, I'm gophering uranium." He laughed lightly at his own word-joke. "You might be interested to know that the woman you were fucking for over a year needs uranium for her husband's latest hobby. Apparently you're not terribly talkative in the bedroom, Harry. Had you been more forthcoming with her, we wouldn't have to be doing this. So, as you can see, this is all your fault -"

The door suddenly burst open, and the room was flooded with artificial light. Perhaps there is the white light which we're meant to follow after we die, Harry thought, almost past caring. His muscles ached, his ribs hurt, and his head thumped like a drum. Shots rang out, and he heard bodies hit the cement floor.

"Harry?" A familiar voice spoke to him from right beside him. "Harry, are you alright? Speak to me, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes with difficulty, and looked into Dimitri's face. Harry blinked one, twice, before he passed out.

* * *

Ruth sat primly on a chair in the hospital corridor outside the room in which Harry would be recovering after his operation. She was worried about him, naturally, but she'd been assured he would recover fully, and live a normal life. She looked up as footsteps approached her.

"I'm Dr Lidcomb," he said. "I was one of two surgeons who operated on Sir Harry. I believe you're his wife."

"Partner. We're not married …... yet." Ruth surprised herself with her response. Maybe were she married to Harry, he wouldn't get himself into these situations.

"He'll be wheeled back here in around ten minutes. There was some internal bleeding that worried us, but we found the source, and he should recover well, and be home in a couple of days, maybe three. He'll be sore for a while. I'd suggest you stay with him during the recovery period. He shouldn't be back at work for at least a week, perhaps longer. He's no longer a young man."

Ruth thanked him, and then went back to her private musings. _No longer a young man indeed! _

When Harry was wheeled into his room, Ruth pulled a chair next to his bed, and sat by him, one of his hands in hers. She concentrated all her love for him into willing him to wake up.

* * *

In his den at home, Malcolm Wynn-Jones was compiling his report to deliver to the head of operations at North Yorkshire Aeronautics. What a messy web it was, too. A dodgy engineer who got greedy, and began designing weapons of mass destruction because the financial gains were considerable; his wife, who honey-trapped the head of security at North Yorkshire, and the head of counter-terrorism at MI-5; and a former member of SAVAK who orchestrated the whole thing. Malcolm added an addendum about the Chinese triads, but he suspected that they got in on the act hoping that they could find the uranium before anyone else, and auction it off to the highest bidder. They drew in Lucas North from MI-5 with a hidden pretext (now that North was dead), all the time hoping they could get him to share with them the location of the uranium. He pressed `save', and then prepared to visit the hospital to see Harry.

* * *

In the end, Harry went home from hospital to his own house, and Ruth took some of her things there so that she could look after him. Harry had not yet recovered his normal demeanour. He was morose, and as such, Ruth was finding him difficult. She'd ask him what was wrong, and he'd say, `nothing'. He ate, he slept, and he grumbled about wanting to go back to work.

"There's no way you're going back to work like this. You're still on a massive amount of pain killers, and you still have to heal."

"I can do without the pain killers."

"Alright," Ruth replied, "take yourself off them. See how you manage."

And he did. That night, Ruth lay awake beside him, while he rolled from side to side, groaning in his sleep. Ruth had only just fallen asleep, when she was woken by Harry's moaning and groaning.

"Harry, what is it?"

"My ribs are killing me. I can't sleep."

"Would you like some pain killers?"

"Yes. I'll get them."

"I'll come with you," she said.

They both went downstairs, and Ruth made them a pot of tea, while Harry took his pain killers. Within ten minutes they began to dull the pain in his ribs, his back, and his head.

"Harry," Ruth said after they'd been sitting in silence for some time, "are you angry with me for some reason?"

Harry didn't reply straight away. He appeared to be thinking about how best to word his answer.

"I'm not angry with you, Ruth," he said at last, "but I'm curious as to why you didn't inform Malcolm earlier that I was missing."

"I thought you may have come home here to sleep after your meeting at Whitehall."

"Whitehall didn't let you know I'd not made it to the meeting?"

"No. We rang them next morning, and it was only then that we realised that you were missing. I didn't even think anything was wrong when you didn't come home. I thought you must have come back here to get some rest. After all, neither of us were not getting a lot of rest at my flat."

Harry smiled at that. He smiled at the memory of their nights of passion …... two people who'd been apart for too long, making up for lost time.

"The beating I got has brought that to a sudden halt."

"Not forever, Harry. You'll be well in a week or so, two weeks at most."

"I feel so useless."

"Harry, you're not useless. You need a rest. The pain killers will help you rest."

"I know." He reached across the table and covered Ruth's hand with his own. They had barely touched since they had come home to his house, and they had only kissed briefly and without passion. Harry realised, as his hand covered Ruth's hand, that he had missed this. He had missed touching her, having her touch him, having her kiss him, hold him. He needed to let her back in. "I'm sorry, Ruth."

"What for?"

"I'm sorry I've been shutting you out. I've been trying to protect you from what happened to me."

"Harry, when something like this happens to you, it happens to me also. I love you. Your pain is never just yours - it's mine as well."

Harry had squeezed her hand as she had told him she loved him. "That's the first time you've said that …... that you love me."

"Is it? I thought you knew. I feel as though I say it to you every day …... just not in words."

They finished their tea, and hand in hand climbed the stairs to bed. Harry's pain killers had kicked in, so he lay behind Ruth, and pulled her against him, his arms around her, their hands clasped together against her stomach. They slept peacefully until just after dawn.


	7. Chapter 7

Next morning, Harry awoke to feel the thudding in his head, and the clawing pain in his back and sides. He slid out of bed and went downstairs to take his pain killers, and while he was waiting for them to kick in, he drank a cup of tea. On the way back to bed, he visited the bathroom in his en suite to relieve himself, wash his hands, and then stare at his still-bruised face in the mirror. _Whatever does Ruth see in this plain face?_ He climbed back into bed, and again wrapped himself around Ruth's back. She slept on.

In only a matter of minutes, he felt his body reacting to her proximity. He had not experienced any kind of sexual response since before he was abducted and beaten, so he viewed this as progress. Very gently, he pressed himself against Ruth, hoping she'd wake up and want to make love. It had been over a week since they had last had sex, and that was a long time.

Ruth was already awake, and she had felt him get back into bed, and push his body against her. His erection nestled against her buttocks. As much as she wanted him, she was sure that Harry's body wouldn't be able to sustain the rigours of love-making. Slowly, she turned to face him. His eyes were open, and he was looking at her with the same look he reserved for when he wanted her badly. She'd first seen that look in the corridor of the Havensworth Hotel, all those years ago, before she'd had to go into exile, and she'd seen it in his eyes again on her first night back in London, when he'd come back to her flat because he `couldn't stay away'. Ruth reached out and took his face in her hands. She pulled him closer to her, and kissed him. The kiss quickly became passionate, their tongues seeking the inner sanctum of the other's mouth. Harry ground his body against her, while he kissed her.

They had to eventually come up for air, so Ruth took advantage of that moment to quickly rid herself of her knickers and her camisole, and then she helped Harry remove his t-shirt, and his trunks. What next? He wouldn't be up for being on top, as that would stress his rib fractures.

"Lie on your back," she whispered, her mouth close to his. "I'll go on top."

There was no time for foreplay. They were both ready, and they had to quickly devise a way they could couple without Harry having to exert himself. Ruth climbed on top of him, watching his face for signs of discomfort or pain. She slid herself on to his erection, slowly, so as not to have him climax before they'd even begun. She steadied herself by putting her hands on the pillow each side of his head, while Harry's hands were occupied with her breasts. She reached down to kiss him, while she began moving on top of him. It was not her favourite position. She often got it wrong. One of her ex-boyfriends had even forbidden her to go on top, because he'd told her she was `really crap at it'.

Harry was easy to please. He liked sex …... no, he loved it, and he'd already told her more than once that he loved it with her. Hearing that was very good for her confidence in bed, something which had been battered by some of her past partners. Ruth watched her lover's face, as he gazed at her while she moved on top of him. Ruth became aware that Harry's thumbs were circling her nipples, and every now and again he'd scrape a fingernail across a nipple. This was sending shivers down her body to the place where she and Harry were joined.

Ruth felt him twitch inside her, and one quick look at his face told her he was only moments from coming. He grasped one of her nipples between two fingers, while his other hand reached for her clitoris. Harry was coming inside her – she could feel him, he was panting – and she was still about to …... and then she tipped over the edge just after him, breathing heavily against his shoulder, where she'd collapsed.

Moments later she heard him speak, his voice still raspy. "You'll have to get off me, Ruth. It …," and then he'd let out a cry of pain.

Quickly, Ruth lifted herself off Harry's body, and lay beside him, nestling her head against him. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't be." Harry reached across and kissed the top of her head. "That was wonderful. You were wonderful. It was just that when you lay on me, my ribs and chest -"

"I know. Perhaps we were a bit ambitious. Do you think?"

"I was horny, Ruth. I needed to either have a cold shower, or deal with it in a much more fun way."

"You're still not ready to go back to work."

"Ruth …... if I can do what we've just done, then surely I can handle a day on the Grid."

"Sex lasts 10 minutes, while a day on the Grid can be upwards of 12 hours."

"10 minutes! I doubt we made it to 3."

"Whatever. One fast shag doesn't a day on the Grid make. Besides, you have to go to the hospital today for your check up."

Harry groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Yes. You do."

* * *

Two weeks after Harry was abducted, he returned to the Grid full time. He'd already worked three days for a few hours each day, and he'd managed that well. He was off the analgesics, and apart from when he moved too quickly, or made love too vigorously, he felt well and fit and healthy. Ruth had been right. He had needed the break from work. He had needed the rest, and he and Ruth had needed the extra time together. They'd had a lot of catching up to do. They had settled into a routine of living between his house and her flat. They spent every evening and night together, and were essentially living together, but in two different houses.

At the end of his first full week back at work, he and Ruth had gone home to her flat. She had made a lasagna, and he had promised to provide the salad and the wine.

"You're quiet tonight, Ruth," Harry observed, noticing also that she was moving her lasagna around her plate with her fork, but hardly eating any.

She noticed him watching her faking eating. "I'm not terribly hungry tonight," she said.

"You hardly ate any lunch, Ruth. You need to eat."

"I know," she said absently, followed by, "How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"That I need to eat."

"Ruth ….. darling …... we all need to eat." That is when he stopped. He put down his own fork, and looked across the small table at her. "Ruth ….. do you have something you want to tell me?" Last night when they'd made love after they came home from work, her breasts had been so sore that she'd winced when he'd pinched her nipple, and pushed his hand away when he'd grasped her breast during foreplay. That was strange. And her eating. She ate a lot one moment, and then didn't eat a thing for hours. Except cheese. She was always eating cheese, and he suspected she was stashing it away and eating it on the sly. Perhaps that was why they had been having so many Italian meals.

Ruth stood up and went to her bag, which she'd left on one of the chairs in the living room. She took something from it, and then sat back on her chair at the table.

"I have something to show you, Harry. I've been really afraid to show you this."

She lifted the hand she had held under the table, and from it she lay on the table in front of him a small cylindrical device. He looked down at it, not sure at first what she was showing him.

"It's a pregnancy test, Harry. It's positive."

"This is yours?" he said, stuck for words.

"Yes, it's mine. What I've had difficulty saying to you is that in a little over eight months, you and I are to become parents."

"_Christ!_" he said, picking up the small tube, and examining it.

Ruth was beginning to feel upset, and tears were not far away. She swallowed her emotions, because she was also aware that she'd not given Harry any inkling that she'd suspected she was pregnant. After all, Harry had been in recovery for two weeks, and it was during this time that she suspected that she was carrying their child.

Harry eventually looked up at her, and saw the emotions she was trying hard to hold back. He realised how insensitive he was being, so he stood up, and walked around the table, to sit in the chair beside her, this woman whom he loved, and who was now carrying his child. He slid his arms around her, and pulled her head on to his shoulder.

"I'm really happy about this, Ruth. It's just a shock, that's all. You hadn't said anything. When do you think it might have happened?"

"Probably the first time we had sex. That first night I spent here, and you stayed over."

"Good," he said, pulling back to look at her. "That was a lovely night, Ruth, and the sex was …..."

"Rather good."

"Yes, it was. It was memorable, and now even more memorable."

"Are you happy about this, Harry?"

"Yes, of course I am. I'm just in shock because we hadn't even talked about it, and I hadn't expected to have any more children. That's not to say I hadn't entertained a fantasy or two about what a child of ours might be like."

"You have?"

"Of course. Haven't you?"

Ruth nodded, and it was then that the tears escaped, and rolled down her cheeks. "I'm happy, Harry. I don't know why I'm crying."

"These are tears of joy, Ruth," Harry said, as he brushed her tears away with his thumbs.

"And you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Of course not. Why would I be mad at you. You didn't create this child on your own, Ruth. I had a part in making it."

As soon as they cleaned up after dinner, they went to bed. They lay in one another's arms, talking about this new twist in their life together. Ruth let Harry know how scared she'd been that he would not want her to keep the child, and he'd been shocked that she could even imagine he would contemplate such a thing. She confessed to him that she hadn't bothered with birth control, because a number of friends of hers in Athens, all of whom were her age or younger, had been trying to conceive and with no luck.

"Maybe it was the fault of their partners."

"Maybe," she replied. "We must be very fertile together, Harry. We'll have to engage in some pretty heavy-duty birth control if we want to avoid having a family of six."

"God forbid! I'll have a vasectomy, if that will make things easier."

"If you think you can bear the pain."

"If you can give birth to our child, then I'm sure I can handle a few snips."

They discussed what sex they each thought the baby would be – Harry was sure it was a boy, while Ruth was equally as sure it was a girl. They discussed possible names – Harry liked James for a boy and Molly for a girl, while Ruth liked Giselle for a girl, and she hadn't even considered a boy's name.

They made love gently and slowly, recognising that they had a long life ahead of them, with years in which to make love as often as they wished.

"I might have to take early retirement," Harry said quietly into her hair, once they had settled, ready for sleep.

"I won't try to stop you," she replied, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

"You want me to, don't you?"

"After the last three weeks, yes, I do. I can't lose you, Harry. I couldn't bear to lose you before, but now it's so much more important that you're with me. Every child needs a father."

"Yes. As usual, you're right."

As they drifted off to sleep in one another's arms, Ruth was thinking of her own father, taken from her too early, while Harry's mind wandered back to his own poor showing as a father to his two adult children. He was determined that with this child – his and Ruth's child – he would get it right. He'd been given a second chance.

.

_**A/N: Final chapter of this fic up next.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Thanks to all who have read this story, and especially to those who have reviewed. This is the final chapter.**_

* * *

_Seventeen months later – Suffolk coast:_

Ruth stood at the dining room window, attempting to draw the attention of the man lying on his back on the grass. Their daughter sat on his stomach, bumping her body up and down like she was riding a horse, blowing bubbles with her mouth, while he held her feet, ensuring she'd not tumble off. Temporarily forgetting where she'd left the camera, she grabbed her mobile phone from beside the house phone in the kitchen, and sneaked out the door and around to the back of the house. She waited for the focus, and then took the shot, just as Molly looked up and saw her.

At the sound of the phone's camera whirring, Harry lifted his head, and turned towards her. His smile was so wide, so relaxed, and so golden, that she took another two shots while he was looking at her. They had hundreds of photographs of Molly, but not nearly enough of Molly and Harry together, on their own.

"That's another one we'll have to email to everyone," Ruth said, walking towards her husband and daughter. "No-one believes me when I tell them that you haven't stopped smiling since Molly was born."

Harry reached out a hand towards her, and she joined them on the grass, sitting down beside Harry, so that both he and Molly were close enough to touch her. Still lying on his back, Harry reached out his hand and rested it on Ruth's leg, while Molly lifted both arms in the air, and blew a massive bubble, which resulted in a stream of dribble rolling down to her chin.

"Clever girl," Ruth cried, clapping her hands, and Molly clapped her hands along with her mother.

It was such a simple tableau …... father, mother and child, relaxing on the grass in the back yard on a summer afternoon …...their child with a little bit of him, and a little bit of her – dark hair like her mother, and her father's hazel eyes and full lips. Harry looked up at his wife as she watched their daughter blowing more bubbles with her mouth. If he was being honest, he'd missed work after he'd retired, which he did when Ruth was six months pregnant with Molly. Once they had Molly, he hadn't looked back. This was his new life, spent with the two people he loved most in the world. If someone had come to him 2 years ago, and told him that in 2 years time he'd have been retired, and living in the country, married to Ruth, and with a baby daughter, he'd have suggested they get psychiatric help. Even when she had first come back to London, this kind of outcome had looked unlikely. Work had always intervened. There had always been _something_.

Suddenly, Ruth's phone rang. She and Harry still had the same phones Malcolm had set up for them when Ruth had first arrived back in London.

"Malcolm," she said, after she'd checked the caller display. "Yes, he's here with me. We're outside catching some rays. …... No, I think he's put it in a drawer somewhere, and refuses to answer it. …... Yes... He's afraid it will be the DG wanting to know why he's not at Thames House. Here, I'll hand you over to him."

Harry sat up, and handed Molly to Ruth, and he took the phone from her. He stood up, and walked around the garden while he talked to Malcolm. Ruth carried Molly over to a swing which Harry had made – a rubber car tyre suspended from a branch of the almond tree by two lengths of strong rope. She sat on the rubber tyre, which had been reinforced with layers of felt, and swung slowly, one hand around Molly's waist, as the supporting branch creaked with their combined weight. The little girl lay back against Ruth's breast, and smiled at Harry as he walked past them, talking to Malcolm on the phone.

After he ended the call, he handed the phone back to Ruth, who slipped it into her pocket.

"He's sending me an email he thinks might interest me."

"Are you missing work, Harry?"

"No. I have you and Molly. I can't ask for more. My life is rich, and I consider myself a lucky man."

"But you miss the intrigue."

"Occasionally, yes." Harry stood in front of Ruth, giving her a little push whenever the swing swung close to him. Molly watched Harry, fascinated by his face coming closer to her, and then moving further away. Whenever the swing came close to him, he reached down and kissed Molly on the nose. She'd still be giggling when the swing came back, and she received another kiss on the nose, which made her giggle all over again. The next time the swing reached him, he reached down to kiss Ruth on the mouth. Molly giggled even more.

"I'll give her a bath if you like, Ruth …... while you cook dinner."

"Thanks. I'd like that."

Harry had taken to bathing Molly at night, just before her dinner, which she ate before Ruth put her to her breast to put her to sleep. He'd run warm water in the bath, and then sit in it wearing only his trunks, and hold her on his knees while he bathed her. The trunks had been necessary after Ruth had taken to creeping into the bathroom and stealthily videoing bath time with Harry and Molly.

"You can't ever show Molly these movies, Ruth," he'd complained. "She'd be so embarrassed to think I'd been naked while I'd bathed her."

So he'd decided to wear something to ensure his modesty. Even so, she'd still be mortified were they to show the bathtime videos at her 18th birthday party.

_Christ, 18, _Harry had thought._ I'll have turned 76 just before her birthday, and Ruth will be 59. We'll be old parents._

* * *

After Molly had been put to bed, Ruth and Harry ate their dinner while sitting on the small patio just outside the dining room door. Their back yard was private, surrounded by mature trees, protecting them from the eyes of curious neighbours.

"What did Malcolm want?" Ruth asked over a glass of wine, hers being non-alcoholic, since she was still breast-feeding Molly. They had already taken their dishes inside and stacked the dishwasher, which they could hear whooshing and humming in the background.

"He sent an email with some photos attached. In some ways, my past is still catching up with me. Do you want to see them?"

When she nodded, he stepped back into the house, and brought out his ipad. He opened the safe email account, and scrolled through the emails until he reached the one Malcolm had sent. He opened the attachment of three photographs, and handed the pad over to Ruth.

"Gunther Hoff has been caught, and is now in custody in the US. They claim the right to lock him up and throw away the key. My guess is they'll hold on to him and try to get his intellectual property from him, and then they'll have no need of him. I also guess that he'd rather die than let the US have any of his plans for weapons." Harry took a deep breath and sighed, his former life tiring him. "He was living in Belgium under an assumed name. That's him in that first photo, and that's him with his wife entering the London flat where I used to meet her." Harry stopped speaking, and passed a hand over his forehead. "That all feels like it happened so long ago."

He looked over at Ruth, and she was examining the photos, and seemed not to have heard him.

"This is he, then?" Ruth asked, pointing to the CCTV photo of Stephanie walking into her flat with an unidentified man.

"That's Gunther Hoff. He was also the man she was with the night I met her. She intimated he was bothering her with his boring stories about his fertiliser business. Gunther Hoff – her husband – was that man. The two of them set up a honey trap, and I stepped right in. The other photo is of her with the head of security at North Yorkshire Aeronautics. She had the three of us on the go at the same time. I suspect she also recruited Babak Raad in the same way. Her husband required someone to do the leg work, and who better than an ex-SAVAK officer?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes, I am. I found Stephanie Hoff to be clever, but limited in imagination. Obviously I was wrong."

"It's in the past now, Harry. You can let it go."

"I know, but …..."

"You didn't like being taken for a ride."

"No, I didn't. I thought my instincts were better than that." He sighed as he thought. "Maybe my instincts were sullied by missing you. I did miss you for those years you were away. I missed you terribly."

"Well, you won't have to miss me ever again."

They sat back with their wine, and watched the sky as twilight fell. It was a beautiful time of the year, and they enjoyed every moment of every day.

"I love this house, the sky, nightfall, being here with you, knowing that you won't be called out on some national emergency or other," Ruth added quietly.

Harry looked at her, and reached out to place his hand over hers. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. They touched one another a lot, but the touch of his hand on hers always held the promise of something more. Harry's fingers were articulate, giving Ruth a sense that he was wooing her, and that there will be more later. She turned her hand so that their fingers laced. They both watched as their hands danced with one another.

Ruth looked up at him to see his eyes on her. There was that look again, the look he had when he desired her.

"Do you think we'll ever tire of one another, Harry?"

"I certainly hope not. I can't see it happening, can you?"

He lifted their hands, and turned them so that his lips touched the inside of her wrist. Ruth sighed with the touch of his lips on her skin. He knew her so well. He knew every part of her, and she every part of him …... not just their bodies, but their minds, their emotions, their souls. They believed they were born to be together. They had talked about it, and they agreed that they could have this – the house, the child, the peace and serenity, the love, the life, the right to a future together.

"How about an early night?" Harry suggested.

Ruth knew what he meant. An `early night' meant sex. She smiled and nodded, and with their fingers still entwined, they stepped inside through the French windows, which Harry turned to lock, before they climbed the stairs to bed.


End file.
